


A Host is a Host is a Host

by Emptynarration



Series: Twisted Minds AU [3]
Category: Youtube RPF, Youtube egos
Genre: ( nope ), ( you might think this is all for author ), Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Choking, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Slapping, Strangeling, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 06:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20326843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emptynarration/pseuds/Emptynarration
Summary: After Edward took Author from where he found him spat out from Dark, he took care of him.More or less, at the very least, considering Edward's broken mind.The effect Dark had on Author made him realize how messed up they all truly are.And it's breaking him.





	A Host is a Host is a Host

Edward hummed, a lazy grin on his lips, as he sharpened his scalpels. One might say he should just use new ones, sterile and sharp beyond belief, but honestly? He didn't give a single fuck. His scalpels hadn't failed him so far, and he could get them much sharper on his own anyways. And if he _didn't_ sharpen them, they left a more painful ragged wound behind, probably even getting infected, and that was just perfect.

Right now, he was waiting for Author to wake up again.

Edward had re-located Author's shoulder, and had put both of his wrists into casts, and pumped the man full of painkillers. Most of it had happened while Edward had been “sane”, “thinking-straight”. Some he had done afterwards, because he had gotten a _delicious_ thought.  
Author would owe him something.  
Who gave a shit that _Edward _was the one to even get Author into that situation? He had patched him up and he was going to take care of him until Author could actually use his hands again, which would... take a while. At least eight weeks, so around two months. Two months of Edward taking care of Author, feeding him and making sure he was “fine”.

The doctor was in no way worried about Author's eyes. They were pitch black now, and if Edward stared long enough, he swore he could see darkness swirl within those eyes, like fog or mist, trapped inside a crystal ball.  
They _were_ still bleeding though. It looked like bloody tears, most of the time, and all Edward did was wipe the blood off. In the end, he just tied bandages around Author's eyes, so he didn't have to clean him up all the damn time.

So he waited patiently for Author to wake up again, so he could see what happened to him. He was _very_ curious about his eyes, but Edward couldn't do anything without the man actually awake and able to talk to him.

Eventually, Author groaned, and Edward looked over at him. He sat in his rolling office chair, too lazy to stand up. And the tiles were good enough to roll across, especially since there wasn't any fresh blood on the ground currently. What a sad thought, but he couldn't do much while he was waiting for Author. Even though it had taken one or two days for the man to wake up.

“Finally. Thought you'd never wake up.”, Edward said, clearly annoyed, and watched the other ego. Author was obviously figuring out that his wrists were in casts, rendering his thumbs completely useless, and he couldn't do much of anything without a thumb. He was also very groggy and slow-moving, painkillers keeping him tired and thoughts slow.  
“Shut up.”, Author muttered, rubbing his forehead. His head was _pounding_, and his eyes were _throbbing_. It all hurt extremely, every bit of his body ached, while also feeling numb. He could tell he must be on painkillers.  
“Don't be such an ungrateful bitch.”, Edward scoffed, pushing his chair to roll over to Author's bed, keeping an eye on him with his scalpel in hand. Author just grumbled something in return.

Author pulled the bandages over his eyes up, furrowing his brows when he _still_ couldn't see. Before he turned to look at Edward, and he violently flinched back, letting the bandages drop back down over his eyes, enveloping him in comforting darkness.  
“What's wrong with you?”, Edward asked, a brow raised. Interesting. He pulled a clipboard close and wrote down what was happening. He may not get to do his own experiments on Author, but he got the opportunity to study something that had been at the mercy of Dark _for an hour_.  
“I-”, Author shook his head lightly, taking a deep breath. “Mind your own fucking business.”.  
Edward stood, hand reeled back, and slapped Author. His head whipped to the side from the force, and he gasped.  
“What the fuck?”, Author growled, and Edward smirked, grabbing Author's chin between his fingers.  
“I'm your doctor now, moron. You don't seriously think you can do any shit without your thumbs, do you? You're a helpless little bitch, and fully at my mercy now. So if you want my help, you better _cooperate_.”, Edward said, his voice a low growl as he leaned down close to Author.

Author scowled, and he would have probably glared at Edward if he could. He couldn't, though, because his eyes were hidden beneath bandages, and he was pretty much blind now anyways.  
“_Fine_.”, he spat, and Edward grinned, flicking Author's head up before leaning back and sitting down in his chair again.  
“So, _tell me_, what the fuck is wrong with you.”.  
Author sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back into the pillows. “I can't see anything, fucking asshole.”, he said, and he was trying to get used to the throbbing pain behind his eyeballs.  
“And why the fuck did you flinch back when you faced me then?”, Edward asked, clearly annoyed with Author. He had to pull everything out of his nose, didn't he?  
“Because I remember you're disgusting face.”, Author scoffed, rolling his eyes -which showed with a head-movement of his.  
“I'm going to do much worse than slap you if you don't fucking answer.”, Edward growled, and Author scrunched up his nose.

“_Fine_.”, he sighed, exasperated. “I could see... some sort of weird _lights_. Strings of lights. They made up your general shape, I guess. It...”, he was _not_ going to admit that it looked terrifying. So he just shrugged, and _thankfully_ that seemed to be enough for Edward. He scribbled it down, nodding slightly.  
“So you're a blind fuck now huh.”, Edward said and snickered, Author rolling his eyes and shaking his head slightly. Author was indeed blind now, and pretty fucking useless. His power was _writing_, how in the fuck was he supposed to do shit now?  
“Makes it easier for me to use you.”, Edward hummed with a sadistic grin, and he was standing, leaning over Author. Author growled low in his throat, trying to curl his hands into fists. It didn't really work with the casts though.  
“Touch me and I'll kill you.”, Author growled, and Edward _laughed. _He gripped Author's chin again, and leaned down dangerously close, their lips almost brushing against each other.  
“You're at my mercy now, you useless piece of shit. No one else would've picked you up from there. No one else would've put your wrists into fucking casts so they heal properly. So you can write again. You're _mine_.”, Edward muttered lowly, his grip on Author's chin tight, painful, and Author stayed safely _silent_ in return.

“That's what I thought.”, Edward huffed, leaning back and snapping Author's chin, before walking off, dragging his chair behind him.  
“Since you've been _such_ a good boy, I suppose you don't need food today.”, Edward hummed, chuckling, and Author rolled his eyes again. He didn't give a fuck, he just wanted this pain to leave him. It hurt, and even though he knew he was on painkillers, his head still managed to hurt like a bitch.  
Edward left the office then, leaving Author in silence. And darkness.

A shiver ran down Author's spine, and he hugged himself. The cold, the darkness, the silence, it _terrified_ him. After his... “encounter” with Dark, he found himself terribly afraid. He hated this. He hated the silence. He hated how dark it was.  
He couldn't write currently, but that didn't mean he couldn't still think about his stories. He used to talk to himself a lot -it made thinking a lot easier- and since he hated this silence so much...  
Author started to talk. He muttered quietly to himself, whatever he would usually write down on paper. It filled the silence, and it took his mind off of the rest. He could paint the pictures in his mind, so it wasn't like he remembered the darkness anymore either.

-

The pain only got worse throughout the next days, Author's head throbbing and hurting. Edward largely ignored him, though he did check up on him sometimes. Bringing him food once a day, a bottle of water for him too, and taking some notes now and then.

Author, in the that time, slowly began to realize more and more how fucked up everyone and everything had become. It was... it was really weird. He woke from nightmares most nights, screaming and gasping for breath, never knowing what was real and what wasn't. His head always hurt, and he couldn't stop but speak, filling the silence surrounding him, trying to tell himself what was real and what wasn't.  
It wasn't like anyone cared about him screaming, or anyone screaming, in fact. It was normal for screams to fill the manor day in day out, so who gave a shit if Author was screaming or not?

Edward rarely paid him much of any sort of attention. He didn't see a reason to, especially since Author wasn't all that interesting.

“How's my fucktoy doing?”, Edward asked one night when he was bored, not having any test subjects at the moment. Sitting down next to Author's bed, playing with his scalpel again.  
“Shut the fuck up, asshole.”, Author muttered, and Edward pushed his scalpel against Author's fingers, even with just a touch cutting the skin and drawing blood.  
“Say that again and you'll lose a finger.”, Edward muttered dangerously, and Author scrunched his nose up, shaking his head lightly.  
“He'd prefer to keep them.”, Author scoffed, and Edward laughed lightly.  
“What, now you freak start speaking in third person?”, he asked with a smirk, finding great amusement in Author's new weirdness.  
Author growled, glaring at Edward through his bandages, and Edward was pretty sure that he could actually feel it and tell that Author was glaring at him.  
“Aw, is itty bitty Author mad at me? What a fucking shame.”, Edward laughed, and Author used his second hand to grab the scalpel out of Edward's hand, and instead immediately try and stab it into Edward. All the while he was muttering to himself, like he was narrating one of his books.

Author managed to ram the scalpel into Edward's arm, and Edward hissed in pain. But he found he couldn't pull his arm away, and Author's bandages were soaking in blood rapidly as he kept muttering. Edward growled, and he resisted against the strange force holding him still. Ripping his arms away from Author -ignoring the scalpel inside one- and he wrapped his hands tightly around Author's throat, until the other couldn't get a breath in anymore, and his ceaseless muttering stopped.  
“Listen here, you stupid cunt.”, Edward growled, leaning down over Author, putting his body-weight onto his hands wrapped around Author's neck. “You're going to behave. No one gives a fuck about you or your life, and no one would give a shit if I killed you over, and over, and _over_ again. So if you don't want to live through constant death over and over again, you're going to behave.”.  
Author was struggling to listen to Edward, head swimming with the lack of oxygen, and his hands were fully useless as he tried to get Edward's arms away.

“Got it?”, Edward asked, and Author didn't react -unable to reply, of course, but also still unwilling to actually want to do as Edward said and take everything he did without biting back.  
“I asked. If. You. Got. _It._”, Edward asked again, and he squeezed as hard as he could, and Author desperately tapped his casts against Edward's arm, trying his hardest to nod. He felt dizzy, his lungs screaming for air.  
Thankfully, Edward let go of his neck then, and Author desperately gulped down air, turning sideways slightly as he felt the blood on his face soak into the bandages, confusing him and making him feel even worse in some ways.  
“So, are you going to do what I tell you to?”, Edward asked, pulling out the scalpel of his arm and instead set it against Author's arm, with just enough pressure to cut the skin open.  
“Y-yes.”, Author replied quietly and nodded, still taking deep and desperate breaths. Edward smirked, and he pressed a kiss to Author's forehead, making the ego scoff.

“Was that truly that hard?”, Edward hummed, and he roughly flipped Author back to lay on his back, and he yanked the bandages off. Author immediately squeezed his eyes shut, and Edward just rolled his eyes. Grabbing a cloth, he wiped Author's face clean roughly, before grabbing fresh bandages and wrapping them around Author's eyes again.  
The man had started mumbling again, and Edward just sighed. Fine then. Edward stood up and threw the soaked bandages and the cloth off to somewhere else in the clinic, before he decided he was done with the Author for now. He hoped the guy had learned his lesson finally, because he'd get pretty annoyed if he actually had to kill Author and see him come back again.

He _was_ pretty curious about Author's muttering though. He had also seemed to manipulate him earlier, though Edward wasn't sure if that had really happened or if he just had been frozen himself from Author suddenly grabbing the scalpel and stabbing him. _Again_.  
Author had also started speaking in the third person, which was interesting to note as well. Edward wrote it down on his notepad once he found the blood-stained paper again. Muttering. Maybe powers related to speaking. Third person talking. Constant mutters.

It was pretty weird to say the least, but Edward knew worse and weirder shit, so it wasn't like this was taking the cake on “strange shit the egos did”.

-

Author was having a hard time.

Everything was _wrong_.

He could feel it in his bones.

Dark had... _changed_.

_Everything_.

-

He groaned, trying to fist his hands in his hair. His head was _throbbing_. It hurt, his eyes felt like they were going to explode. They burned, and he could feel the blood dripping out of them, soaking into the bandages tied around his head. He didn't want to ever take them off if he could, he hated seeing- seeing those _lights_.

It was horrible.

They were a deep and _bloody_ red. Flowing through Edward like water, almost resembling snakes, or worms. He couldn't describe it. They were bright, but such a dark colour. Twisting and turning, wrapping around Edward like they were strings trying to cut him into pieces.  
The scariest part was definitely not the red, though.  
While the red lights looked closer to bloody intestines, there was... something else.

A spot of mint.

It was small, and barely there, and it was focused on the middle of Edward's chest. It glowed weakly, with just little strings coming off of it. He couldn't understand why it was. He didn't understand.  
But he also did, understand.  
Because he knew. He knew how they had changed. Everyone. Everyone of them had changed, and it hurt his head to think about it.

At night, he dreamed of it.

He dreamed of all of them, the egos. He dreamed of Wilford being his cheery and bubbly self, but without the blood-stains, without the constant creepy grin on his lips. He dreamed of Dark, actual Dark, lecturing them during a meeting. He dreamed of Bim, as normal as all of them, without the long limbs, without the blood, without the taste of human flesh (at least not obviously constantly).  
He dreamed of them being a happy family, of them being _normal_.  
And when he woke, gasping for breath, his head hurting like someone beating his head with a sledgehammer, he remembered.

That was how they were supposed to be.

He didn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand. They had changed, all of them, and he didn't know why he was the one to remember, to realize. Why did he have to know? Why did he have to dream of what once was, of what should've been?  
Everyone was different now, everyone was lusting after blood, after pain, after murder. Everyone was brutal and loved to bring pain to whoever dared. Fuck, even _Edward_. Sweet, gentle, nervous Edward. Just a few hours ago Edward had been close to _choking him to death_.

It all came crashing down on him at that moment, and he sobbed, blood dripping from his eyes and soaking into the bandage. It hurt, it hurt, and he couldn't stop remembering his dreams, couldn't stop remembering what was supposed to be, what should have been.

He sobbed, hands -even though in casts- pressed against his eyes. It was terrifying. It was breaking him, and he couldn't fathom going through this.

Edward peeked into the clinic. It was the middle of the night, true, but he... felt sane. At the moment. His sane hadn't actually seen Author yet, even though it's been days since he had brought him here. He.. sort of knew what he did usually. It was like there were two people inside of one body, two parts of his mind working at different times, without either being fully aware while the other one was.  
He heard Author crying, and he became worried. Flicking on the light, he came inside, and slowly walked over.

“Author?”, he asked, his voice soft, the usual tint of madness not in his voice. And the other man just _sobbed_ hearing Edward, because he was _still in there_, but the madness was also there, over Edward, hurting him so much. He was aware that Edward hadn't been “sane” for days.  
“Are you alright?”, Edward's voice was so quiet, so _gentle_, and the other man had such a hard time processing it. Thinking about how Edward had literally tried to choke him to death just earlier this day.  
“N-no.”, he gasped, shaking his head. Author felt _wrong_. The name. Author. He couldn't write. He was blind, his wrists were in casts for over 6 more weeks, he could barely hold anything without his thumbs.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”, Edward asked softly, and he sat down at the edge of the bed. Author -no, _who was he_\- felt the dip of the bed. But he also knew Edward was looking at him, concern shining in his dark brown eyes, how he sat turned towards him, wanting to reach out to him but not doing it out of fear how- whoever he was would react.

“He doesn't feel right.”, Author? muttered, taking shaky breaths, trying to calm down. Edward gave him time to collect himself, for which he was very grateful. The bruises around his neck throbbed.  
“He.. he doesn't feel like he's the Author anymore. He cannot write. He's blind. He.. he realized something, and it.. it broke him. He's not a part of this. He's not.. like the Author anymore.”, he tried to explain, carefully, slowly, voice low and soft. He didn't want to tell Edward. That all of this is wrong, that, how Edward acted right now, was how he was _supposed_ to be.  
He didn't want to accidentally break Edward too.  
“Okay.”, Edward said softly and nodded. “What do you want to be called instead of Author?”, he asked gently, and he gently laid a hand onto Author's leg. He... didn't understand what Author was saying, but he wanted to help him.

“He... he's not sure, yet. He supposes Author has to do for the time being.”, Author mumbled. He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do about it.  
“Alright. Just tell me if you find your new name.”, Edward said softly and smiled lightly. He fiddled with his fingers, before quickly leaning over and pressing a kiss t Author's cheek. “I'll leave you to get some more rest, okay? No more thinking too hard.”.  
Author was startled by the kiss, and he couldn't help but remember how... the _other_ Edward had kissed his forehead. He nodded slowly at Edward's words though, deciding sleeping some more should be good. He was tired, really exhausted. His bandages were soaked through, but he didn't fault Edward for not noticing. He had probably some things to do on his own, seeing how it was unpredictable when he'd slip back into madness.

Author buried back into the bed, taking a deep breath and sighing.

He was changing. He _had_ changed. It was.. it was all very confusing to him. He wasn't the Author anymore, but he also wasn't sure who he really was. He was having an identity crisis in a mild way, and he couldn't think straight. His mind was swimming with what-ifs, imagines and imaginations of things that could've been, should've been.  
It was all so vivid, he wasn't sure if this was his imagination or.... or something else. He didn't know. He wasn't sure.

He was just quietly narrating, mumbling to himself, wondering, thinking.

He'd find himself.

-

He could barely sleep. He was plagued by... by _visions_, flashes of sight and things that weren't of this reality. It was.. it was weird, it confused him, it left him disoriented and with blood on his face. He started to have them during the day too, then, short flashes of sight.

It wasn't weird for Author to be up and out of bed. He couldn't sit in bed all day and sleep away his worries, and it was important to try and get used to his new blindness. He found that... he could sort of see. While he had started to mutter out of desperation to fill the silence, now he found his words shifting to describe what was around him.  
It helped. He could see through his words, in a way. He heard them echo in his mind, and when he fell silent, they continued. He could hear the narration in his head, but the longer he stayed silent, the louder it got. There wasn't just the narration of what was happening around him anymore, but there were more, like he was hearing things from his dreams, or from his visions even.

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure.

Another vision hit him as he was just walking around the clinic. He collapsed to his knees, screaming, his head throbbing in pain. His fingers curling against his eyes, and he sobbed, blood dripping down his cheeks as his bandages were already soaked.

There were flashes of images,

blood was flowing,

high-pitched ringing filled his ears,

there was a voice whispering in his ear,

lips on his neck  
and cheeks  
and lips,

and he was shaking, trembling, barely able to speak.

He cried out when he was suddenly shoved on the ground, the back of his head hitting the tile painfully. He was definitely snapped back into reality, which he wouldn't say was especially bad. He had felt lost in his own head, truthfully.  
“Ow- fuck-”, Author tried to lean up onto his elbows, when there was a hand on his chest pushing him back down again. He was breathing harder, bandages having slipped down the bridge of his nose slightly. He was glad they were still covering his eyes, even though uncomfortably so.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, Edward asked, and Author's lips moved without him thinking, barely audible words leaving him. His narrations, Author was certain of it now.  
“The ego had- a vision.”, Author replied, and Edward hummed lightly. It made Author shudder, and he shrunk into himself slightly. He was _afraid_, because he knew how easily Edward could kill him, and torture him over and over. The threat was burned into his mind.

Fuck, Edward had _thrown him into Dark_.

“It- it was like.. he could see.. flashes? And sounds. He doesn't understand what it means.”, Author muttered. He knew Edward wanted him to tell him what he meant when he said anything, and he didn't want to be hurt again because he didn't elaborate immediately.  
Edward hummed, running his hand -Author noted it was bloody- through Author's hair. It made him wince softly, but he didn't try and move away. He was still trembling from his vision, shaken.  
“You screamed bloody murder, you know?”, Edward said and laughed, not making Author feel any better. Edward helped Author sit up, and he pulled off the bloodied bandages. Author winced slightly, obsidian eyes looking at Edward. It terrified him, and he hoped the mint colored light was good.  
“There, don't you feel better?”, Edward hummed and chuckled, and pressed a kiss to Author's lips. They were stained with blood, and Author felt highly uncomfortable. Especially because Edward wiped some blood off of his face and licked it off his fingers slowly.

“T-the-... he thanks Edward.”, Author muttered. He wasn't sure what to call himself. Author was _wrong_, but what else should he call himself? He was trying not to call himself anything, but.. It was pretty hard.  
Edward smiled, and Author couldn't see it, but it still send a shiver down his spine. Edward picked Author up, and Author squeaked, trying to hold onto Edward with his hands as much as he could.  
“Let's get you back to bed. Don't want my _darling_ to get hurt after all.”, Edward hummed and laughed softly, and Author gave him a shaky smile in reply.  
“H-he isn't opposed to- that.”, Author muttered softly. He felt _extremely_ conflicted about Edward. He treated him so nicely now, and on the other hand he choked him until he was almost passing out. The bruises around his neck still hurt really badly with every movement of his head.

Edward laid Author back into the bed, before getting a cloth and wiping Author's face clean -it was even wet, and Author knew it wasn't because of something gross. Fresh bandages were tied around his face, and he felt immediately better.  
“The blind ego thanks Edward.”, Author muttered, and Edward chuckled, caressing Author's cheek with the back of his hand. Author didn't know why Edward was doing this, how he had come to be like this. Perhaps he had taken interest in him because he was staying in the clinic for weeks.  
“Of course.”, Edward hummed, and gently kissed Author again. Author didn't reciprocate, though the doctor didn't seem to mind.

“There we go. My pretty thing.”, Edward murmured, pressing little kisses to Author's face. It made him uncomfortable, but Edward didn't give a shit. Author was his, now. _His_.  
“I made you like this. I'm helping you heal. You owe me.”, Edward mumbled into Author's ear, and he shuddered, breaths shaky. Author hated it, hated the thought, but he didn't know what powers he had, or if he even had powers at all. Maybe all he could do was narrate his surroundings and get visions.

“_You're mine_.”, Edward's voice was dark, a low rumble, and Author couldn't help but hug himself, nodding weakly. Edward's hand trailed over Author's neck, over the bruises, and laid his hand over them.  
“Darling...”, Edward's voice was a dangerous tone, and Author couldn't even force a smile on his face.  
“Yours. He's all yours, he assures Edward.”, he mumbled softly, feeling Edward's hand beneath his throat as he swallowed. Edward pulled his hand back again thankfully, and Author calmed down slowly.  
“Good.”, Edward smiled, and pressed another kiss to Author's forehead. Author managed the smallest of smiles in return, hoping Edward would be satisfied now. He just wanted to be left alone, even though being alone was... not very comforting, to say the least. But having any of the other egos around was terrifying as well.

“My beautiful. Gorgeous.”, Edward murmured, hands cupping Author's cheeks, and Author just let it happen. There wasn't anything he could do about it, other than be happy Edward wasn't hurting him.  
“A stunning piece of art, eyes black as the void, blood decorating your lovely cheeks.”, Edward murmured, and Author- he knew that Edward was going to climb onto the bed, and he wasn't sure how he knew, other than that his lips were moving, he was muttering without being heard, and then it was happening. As if he had.. known the future, Edward was climbing onto the bed, kneeling over Author, hands holding onto Author's face and lips brushing over the other's skin as he murmured.

“A beautiful host for my creations. That's what you want to be, hm? My gorgeous subject. You'll make pretty noises and give me your blood for testing out whatever I like. Be a host to viruses and illnesses I cook up.”.  
Edward sounded delusional, muttering against Author's skin like that, touching his skin wherever he could. God, Author hoped the next weeks would pass quicker for his casts to come off.  
The doctor was still muttering, almost laying on top of Author, lips against Author's neck as he murmured about how Author would be his experiment, his test subject, a host to whatever he would infect him with.

Author's mind caught onto the word host, though. He was a host. A host to the narrations inside his head, a host to what was happening in the world.

Host.

“The.. Host.”, Author murmured, and Edward didn't even seem to notice him speaking. His words were quiet now, and Author, no, Host? Didn't care to understand what Edward was mumbling about. Instead he focused on himself, how he felt about the new name. “The Host... feels Edward laying on top of himself, slowly seeming to fall asleep.”.  
It was weird, but he didn't... think it was wrong. He didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel wrong to call himself Host.

The Host.

He didn't feel too terrible about it. Having Edward on him was strange, but he managed to move the doctor to the side so he wasn't crushed beneath the other's weight. Edward wasn't... he wasn't the worst of the bunch, he supposed.  
Sighing, Host made himself comfortable in bed.

He just hoped it'd get better.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont like the end but i cant be bothered anymore lol its so long  
feel free to request something for this au  
and to comment if you liked it !


End file.
